


Black Marker

by ShanaRHager



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Just popped into my head, Tantrum of sorts, Tier List
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaRHager/pseuds/ShanaRHager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No words can describe how much he hates that tier list.  Set in 1999.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Marker

**Author's Note:**

> A good song to go with this story: https://www.jamendo.com/track/6258/elfman-01?language=en

             His face, so scrunched up that it looks like a two-year-old throwing a fit, redness quickly darkening to a hideous purple, blotches on his cheeks—eyes spewing fire as golf ball sized tears fill them and spill over like rivers—nose, long and bulbous, raw and runny as nostrils flare in and out in anger.  His breathing consists of hiccups as he struggles for oxygen, the animal that is his rage choking him, corrupting his lungs, poisoning him with negativity.  Hiccups turn into exploding sobs and hate-fueled screams as all sorts of cuss words roil at the back of his sore throat.  Every beat of his heart reminds him that this is _real_ , that this is what the guys in the suits really think of him, that he is doomed to finish last till he draws his final breath.  It fills him with such malevolence that he has no choice but to let it go, right here, right now, standing before the accursed piece of paper which has reinforced this ugly stigma placed upon him for as long as he can remember.

            The room is empty, save for him at that foul poster tacked onto the cold, hard, unsympathetic wall.  The perfect space for his blessed release as his frustration and fury clash and crest.  So violent is this outbreak of emotions that his whole body shudders and writhes, at the same time relieved to expel it all.  The paper tacked on the wall watches impassively, unflinchingly, as he unloads.  It seems to be mocking him.  Oh, how does it know—HOW does it know—of the black marker clenched in his gloved fist?

            Black as soot, black as the night, black as despair, black as a flock of ravens, black as coal—and now he slashes his trusty marker onto the paper, assaulting it with blackness, covering it with angry, stormy scribbles, covering it with his hate.  All the time, he’s screaming uncontrollably, his profanity snapping loose at last, breathing in deep sobs, drool and snot mixing to form a slimy, coagulated mess.  Even so, he does not stop slicing, slashing and goring away at this eyesore with his black marker, determined to hide it away, to obliterate it.  He becomes aware that he’s sweating, as if feverish; still, his scribbling does not cease.  He is going to turn this ugly piece of paper into his own work of art.  His canvas is that abomination condemning him and his paint consists of his strong emotions.

            He feels himself calming down as he blots that _tier list_ from his existence, drawing and slashing and scribble-scrabbling, the black mess taking shape to form words, thoughts, symbols.  Art is uncontained; it is the landscape of a person’s mind, and that is certainly the case here as the squiggles from his black marker writhe wildly over what has caused him such distress while said marker continues its uncontrollable dance over it.  Blotting out the fact that they put him in last place.  Blotting out the reminder that everyone thinks he’s close to nothing.  Blotting out the negative associations trying to ensnare him.

            Thanks to his black marker, the _tier list_ is gone, replaced by the explosive artwork of his rage and frustration.

            Thanks to his black marker, he feels better.

            Thanks to his black marker, his anguished voice will be heard.

            Thanks to his black marker, he will sleep well tonight.


End file.
